


want that red velvet (want that sugar sweet)

by cherrykirsch



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Backless Sweater, Begging, Bondage, Choking, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Fucking, Light Bondage, Light Sadism, Manhandling, Misora is an E-Girl, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn That Tries to Have a Plot, Rough Sex, Sadism, Spanking, Sweaters, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, light degredation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 15:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15003713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrykirsch/pseuds/cherrykirsch
Summary: Misora knows how to make Banjou hard. Banjou knows how to make Misora beg for him.





	want that red velvet (want that sugar sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> hey, they fucc. i listened to cupcakke while writing some of this.
> 
> this is literally just self-gratifying and self-fulfilling smut.
> 
> enjoy!

Sometimes, Banjou scares her.

Not in a necessarily bad way, more in the way that she’s never sure of what he’s thinking. Unlike Sento, he is a closed book, she can’t flip his head open and take a peek inside to see what’s bothering him like she can Sento, she can’t fix his angry glare and curling of his lips with a few words and a little bit of comfort. She can’t shoot him a cute-as-anything smile and have him forgive himself, she can’t convince him to share anything he doesn’t want to with her.

Banjou is harsh eyebrows and concentration, with piercing eyes like golden syrup and lightening, and she finds herself periodically lost in them. Staring intently, trying to decipher the hidden messages inside them, only to turn away when he frowns at her and asks her why she’s staring.

Sometimes, Banjou gets angry.

And it’s like the time in the café when he yelled at her. Loud words that pour from his lips before he thinks about it, that frightening glare and threatening flash of his sharp, taking two steps forward for every one that someone may take back, backing them into a corner, towering over them. Making himself bigger.  
But he doesn’t yell at her anymore, because of how terribly she reacted, and instead he just ignores her. Somehow that hurts her more. Because then she can’t tell what he’s thinking; at least, if he’s yelling at her she knows that he’s angry and she can help him.

Cold shoulder after cold shoulder. Piercing glares.

He’s not going to be this cold forever, because she knows that he’s warm.

Misora remembers his hands like fire on her skin, underneath her clothes as he pressed her up against that climbing frame and kissed her, and she was so cold until he was on her, curling over her body as if to shield her from the world. And he did taste like coffee —coffee and something else, something metallic, almost as if he’d been chewing bolts or drinking pure electricity.  
They were electric, and she lit up light a neon sign beneath him, all soft sounds and soft skins and soft touches, and he looked at her like it hurt to. Like she was something bright and wonderful, like she was a constellation that he was crafting with his hands; like she was kind and kind-of beautiful, like he adored her.

And she _loves_ being adored. Especially by Banjou.

She’s sitting close to him, their knees brushing every time he moves to shake a leg or fiddle with the Sclashjelly in his hand, and although he is cold to her he is so warm. She feels it through his clothes like fire, and a small part of her wants it to burn her. 

“Ryuuga~” She calls in a sing-song voice, allowing her eyelashes to flutter shut and a satisfied smile to cross her lips when she feels him still. “I’m bored.” 

“Not my problem.” Banjou says dismissively. But at least he’s talking to her.

Misora pouts and opens her eyes. “But you’re here with me and you’re just sitting there.” She says. “It’s like you’re my pet rock or something.”

Banjou rolls his eyes slightly. “At least I’m not your baby sitter.” He says and Misora nudges him with a slippered toe. 

“Mean.” She chastises. “I’m bored, Banjou. I don’t have anything to do!” She says again with a drawn-out cry as she shakes his arm, trying her best to look at least a little bit distressed. They both know that she’s really not. 

Banjou grunts and shifts. “Find something to do then.”

Misora stands and walks over to her bed, rummaging underneath it for something. “Dress up with me.” She says, pulling a large box from underneath her bed and opening it, pulling articles of clothing from its depths. “ _Please_ , Banjou.”

“You can dress up,” Banjou says with a pointed look. “I’m not.”

“I have too many outfits.” She says with a pointed look back, holding a gingham pinafore up at him. “What are you going to do while I choose? Watch?” She asks, almost daring him to reply to her.

Banjou meets her eyes. “I’m only interested if you have a maid costume.” He says very seriously and Misora chokes on her next breath of air, spluttering as Banjou grins in satisfaction. “Maybe then you’ll look more girly and cuter—all that lace and silk. _Then_ I’ll watch.” 

_Is he flirting with her?_

Misora looks at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Pervert.” She scolds, though it’s breathless.

Banjou shrugs and shoots her a half-grin. “Says you,” he says. “Chaining me up in the basement. What was that move?”

Misora glares at him and shoves the clothes back into the box furiously, slamming the lid on before she pushes it back underneath the bed. “No more dressing up.” She says. “Since you’ve ruined that for me. And, just for the record, I do not have a maid costume.”

Banjou raised an eyebrow. “Really? None of your creepy viewers have requested it for a shit-ton of cash?” He asks, his eyes widening when Misora looks away from him. “They have?” He questions. “Now I really wanna see that costume.”

“I do not have the costume!” She says as her cheeks flare bright red. “There was a stint with a keyhole sweater once…”

“Keyhole sweater?” He repeats, dumfounded. “You can dress up if you put that on.” 

 _Oh, he’s_ definitely _flirting with her._

Misora smacks him over the back of the head with a magazine. “I’m not putting it on!” She scowls at him. “God, Ryuuga!” She groans.

“Alright, alright,” Banjou sighs, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. “No keyhole sweater. Got it.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Misora flops on the bed and begins to read the magazine. Not that she has a particular interest in – she glances at the cover and grimaces – sports cars, it’s more of a distraction really. She’s very aware when Banjou crawls over to rest his chin in the edge of the mattress, like a lonely and sulky puppy.

“Misora.” Banjou says. 

“Banjou.” Misora replies. 

_Really, how many sports cars are there?_

“Will you put on the keyhole sweater if I ask really nicely?” He asks. 

Misora flicks onto the next page. “Maybe.” She says. “Give it a try.”

“Please? ~” He chirps, mimicking the tone of her voice and her gesture as he looks at her, fluttering his eyelashes. “Well?” He asks impatiently.

“Hmm,” Misora hums, still not looking at him. “Gonna have to pass.”

 _Apparently, there are a lot of sports cars._  

Banjou thinks for a moment. “I’ll give you fifteen thousand yen.” He says and Misora’s eyes widen as she sits bolt upright.

“What?” She repeats dumbly, blinking at him 

“Put on the sweater and I’ll give you fifteen thousand yen.” Banjou repeats with a grin.

Misora scowls, though the amount of cash he was offering was tempting. “How about I’ll wear something else that you will like and you pay me nothing?” She offers as softly and sweetly as she can manage and Banjou smiles.

“Oh, cool,” he says. “Because I didn’t really have fifteen thousand yen.” 

She rolls her eyes and places her head in her hand. “Typical boys.” She whispers before she turns to him and leans in close to Banjou’s face. “Are you flirting with me, Ryuuga?” She asks him, making sure that her voice is laced with sweetness like syrup, and, for a moment, he looks numb. 

“You were teasing me,” He says softly, and the words make her heart leap in her chest. “All that talk of costumes and dressing up.”

Misora smiles, tilts her face towards his. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She asks. “Me, dressed up and waiting for you.”

As Banjou lets out a groan she leans forwards and brushes her lips against his, pulling back before he can tangle his fingers in her hair and force her face close. Because he was in control before, he took what he wanted, but it’s her turn now, for as long as they’ll both make it last.

She grins, turns away, and snatches something from her costume box, tucking it behind her back before Banjou can get a good look at what it is. Banjou scowls at her.

“Don’t tease.” He says. “You’re just doing that on purpose now.” 

Misora grins, placing her index finger on her bottom lip. “I know.” She says happily. “I do what I want and you’ll go along with it if you want to see a surprise.”

Banjou grits his teeth and clenches his hands into fists, nodding stiffly as Misora grins triumphantly and forces Banjou out into the workshop with the instruction to turn around and close his eyes until she tells him otherwise. He sighs as he does so, and rests his forehead against the wall as Misora peels off her dress and slips on something else. She fixes the tie around the back of her neck, and pulls up her socks and then she walks up to Banjou and hugs him around the middle, pressing her chest right up against her back.

“Something the matter, Banjou?” Misora asks as she feels Banjou tense up beneath her, even more so when she uses the voice she normally reserves for her streams. “You’re so tense.” Her fingers travel down his navel, barely skimming the promising curve of his crotch. 

Banjou’s hands shake as he pulls her arms from around his middle, turning around to look her in the eye. “You surprise—” She smiles as he cuts himself off, staring directly at the exposed skin of her hip and the side of her breasts. “Oh… Woah…” Banjou swallows thickly and Misora giggles.

Misora places a hand on her hip and turns slightly, watching in amusement as his gaze flickers down to eye the plump of her ass. “I’ve rendered Banjou Ryuuga speechless.” She says happily. “What a mighty feat. You like it that much?” 

Banjou nods quickly. “Course I do.” He says quickly, resting a hand on her hip, rubbing his thumb over her smooth, soft skin as the other hand lifts to toy with the neck of the sweater. “You look hot. Sexy. Am I the only one who’s seen this?” 

“No.” Misora says and Banjou stills, his eyes snapping up to meet hers. She smirks at him. “A girl has to get her money somehow.”

Banjou nods at that, his hands moving around to grip her ass as he pulls her flush against his body. Misora can feel his boner poking the inside of her thigh and smiles at that. “All those men having jerked it to you in this…” He says, squeezing her ass before he places a small kiss on her forehead. “But I get to see it in real-life, touch you like this.”

To amplify his point Banjou smacks her ass sharply once, watching as she gasps in surprise and then melts against him. “Nobody else gets to see me like you do.” Misora says quietly, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss Banjou’s cheek. “You’re the only one.”

Much to Misora’s surprise, Banjou pries her hands from him and pushes her back down, she stares up at him, her head tilted to the side in silent question as he smiles at her. He takes her chin in his hand and barely brushes his lips against hers, pulling away before she can kiss him properly, smiling when she whines. 

“Don’t whine, baby.” Banjou tells her soft as he strokes back her hair. “You’ve done enough teasing for today. Now it’s my turn. Spin for me and let me examine the merchandise.”

Pleasure coils tight between Misora’s legs and she nods immediately, taking a step away before she lifts her arms from her sides and slowly turns. Banjou’s approach from behind her is a pleasant surprise, especially when he takes a firm hold of her hip with a hand and pushes her backside against his pelvis, the other hand reaching up to grope at her chest. Misora flattens against him and he smiles as he plants slow, careful kisses along the column of her neck.

“You look so pretty for me.” He whispers breathlessly into her ear. “You get me so hard, y’know.” 

A small moan escapes from Misora’s lips. “Teasing…” She manages, her eyes half lidded as she tries to glare at him. “Not fair.”

Banjou smirks as he releases Misora and she stumbles into the bed, taking a shaky seat on the edge to watch with rapt attention as Banjou pulls his shirt over his head and discards it. Her gaze keeps flickering between his face and his crotch and her mouth waters slightly at the sight of the bulge straining at the front of his jeans, and the view only gets better when he unbuckles his belt and approaches slowly, wrapping the leather around his hand. 

“I think you’ll find that I do what I want, princess.” Banjou says quietly, and Misora has to press her thighs together to prevent herself from moaning again. “Turn around. Arms behind your back.” Wordlessly, Misora obeys, turning to bend over the edge of the bed with her arms crossed behind her.

The belt wraps tight around her wrists, and within a minute, her arms are secured tightly behind her back, her cheek pressed against the creased covers of the bed. She lets out a noise of surprise as she lifted to her feet and placed down carefully, getting an eyeful of Banjou’s rippling biceps before he turns her around with a smile.

“There we go.” He says with a smile, tilting her chin up with a finger. “That’s much better. You look so pretty like this. Now… I wonder what panties you’re wearing, if any.”

Before Misora can protest Banjou turns her around again and pushes her head down until her ass is in the air, grinning as he pushes the edge of the dress up, making an appreciative noise when he gets an eyeful of her underwear. “Pink and lacy.” Banjou says as he hooks a finger in the elastic, pulling them swiftly down to her ankles. “Nice. But they’re better off.”

“B-Banjou!” Misora protests as Banjou pushes her forehead and makes her step out of her underwear. He presses her front up against the nearest wall at an angle that makes it impossible for her to pull herself up without falling, and she watches, cheeks flushed in horror, as Banjou picks up her panties and tucks them into the back pocket of his jeans. “That’s too—” 

Banjou cuts her off by easing two fingers slowly into the heat between her legs and she lets out a breathless, drawn out moan, hating how Banjou can turn her into a puddle with only a couple of words and his fingers, and she can feel his grin as he leans down to kiss the expanse of her back.

“Are you complaining, baby girl?” He coos and Misora writhes beneath him, his fingers working her carefully into a dripping mess. “I’m just trying to treat you right, and by how wet you are, you like this. I know you, baby, so be a good girl and make some noise for me.”

Misora whimpers as his fingers speed up inside her, and as his thumb moves around to toy with her clit, her shaking legs move to clamp together and he uses his other hand to pull her legs apart and hold them open. Her hands struggle to grip onto something, finding only her own arms as she drags her nails down them to gather purchase on something that isn’t the intense pleasure running through her mind. 

She knows that he loves how powerless she is beneath him and writhing at the ministrations of his calloused fingers, and she loves it too. She’s so lost in the fantasy that she can’t bring herself to be angry with the way he’s speaking to her, all she’s focused on is the fact that she wants to come.

_She’s so close._

_So very close._

_So… so close…_

Misora’s chest heaves with as she watches Banjou’s hand move into her from behind and as her eyes flutter shut, toeing the edge of the precipice of her orgasm, a breathless whine escaping her lips as her back arches—Banjou’s hands and the feel of his fingers inside of her disappear entirely.

Immediately her eyes prick with tears and she whines indignantly, shaking her ass enticingly at Banjou, who she knows is still standing behind her, watching happily as she whines and almost cries for him. He wants to see her begging and he knows he will, because when he works her up just like that, all Misora’s dignity and self-discipline goes out the window

But she has a trick up her sleeve, and she knows just how to bring him to his knees.

With eyes welling with indignant tears, Misora turns to look into Banjou’s eyes and whimpers, hands reaching for him as her bottom lip wobbles and she says, as seductively and desperately as possible, “Daddy…” And his eyes darken in a way that makes Misora’s hips grind back into open air. “Please…”

Banjou is immediately all over her, cooing as he rubs her hands carefully over her ass and up to stroke her hair. “Oh, baby girl… I didn’t know you were so desperate for me.” Misora leans into his touch, whining when he leans away. “But I’ve still got to punish you for your teasing earlier.”

The heat between her legs throbs at his words.

Banjou pulls her up from the wall and lies her over his lap, ass in the air, once he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. A hand rubs over her ass gently as Misora squirms in anticipation on his lap. Then he raises his hands and lets it fall hard against the plump of her ass, grinning when she yelps and jerks up against him, and to hold her in place he hooks his free hand in the belt and keeps her firmly planted on his lap.

His hand cracks against her ass again and Misora whimpers, tears pricking in her eyes. His hand rubbing over her pink ass in a soothing motion does nothing to intensify the next time his hand comes down on her sensitive skin—the only sound escaping her lips beside moans and whimpers is her calling ‘ _daddy, daddy, daddy_ ’ like a mantra and it only serves to urge Banjou on.

 Banjou gets angry, but sometimes it’s the good kind; when he’s knuckle deep in her heat and teasing or her, or like now when he’s spanking her so good and so hard that she just wants more.

By the time Banjou has decided he has had enough of spanking her, Misora’s ass is bright red and slightly purple and blue, and she whimpers as he pulls her off his lap and pushes her onto the bed, and stands between her legs.

“You’re such a good girl.” Banjou praises as he leans down to wipe a tear away with his thumb. “You’re doing so well. Daddy’s going to treat you now, since you’ve been so good for him.”

Banjou kneels between her legs, trailing kisses up her legs until he’s nestled between her thighs. He sucks purple and red marks into the inside of her thighs and then bites down hard onto the soft flesh until he’s sure that the indents of his teeth will bruise on her milky skin. All the while he draws closer to the arousal dripping between her legs and its paradise when Banjou noses against her clit, and she lets out a breathless whine when he laps at her folds.  
Firm hands hold her in place as he fucks her on his tongue and toys with her clit with the thumb of the hand wrapped firmly around her thigh, and she turns into a babbling mess, wanting nothing more to tangle her hands in his hair and whining pathetically when she remembers that she can’t. While he seems fully intent on driving her towards orgasm, the movement of his tongue inside her and around her entrance is still teasing and it brings tears to her eyes. 

And she is begging, the words falling from her lips as sweet as granulated sugar.

“Daddy. _Daddy_.” She whimpers, gasping when Banjou couples a particularly enthusiastic lick with the sensation of his nails raking down her thighs. “Let me come. Please, _please, daddy_.”

Banjou chuckles against her and it sends the vibrations straight to her clit, driving her just that little bit closer to her sweet release. “Does baby girl wanna come?” He asks, pulling away to stroke her thigh gently, almost like how one would soothe an overexcited animal, moving his other hand down to tease her slick entrance. The subtle degradation makes her whine. “Go on then. Beg.”

And so, she does.

“Wanna come,” she whines desperately, trying to grind her hips against something, anything that would give her the release she desired. “I wanna come daddy, I wanna come on your face. Please, please let me come. I’ll be good, I’ll be a good girl, daddy, I promise.” 

Banjou grins and presses a lingering kiss against the inside of her thigh and dives forward, a finger slipping into her easily as he sucks on her clit enthusiastically. And she stares at her as she squeezes her eyes shut, her toes curling as she comes on his tongue. He works her until she’s oversensitive and then he pulls back, dragging the back of his hand over the wetness around his mouth.

“You beg so pretty, princess.” Banjou says as he stands and unbuttons his jeans, pulling them down just far enough to release his hard cock from the confines of his boxers before he hovers himself over her and lines himself up with her entrance. “Now Daddy’s gonna fuck you good.”

As Misora opens her mouth to reply, Banjou thrusts inside her and her words dissolve into a loud moan, a grin stretching his lips. “You feel so good, baby.” He growls, furrowing his brows as he bottoms out and then pushes back in, watching as Misora’s chest heaves and her face slacks, lost in the pleasure of having Banjou inside her. “So tight around me. You’re so fucking good.”

He lifts a hand to untie the backless sweater from around her neck, and then pushes the fabric down to grope at her chest. Misora squirms and he slows his thrusts to lean down and suck on one of her tits, toying with the pert bud of her nipple with his tongue and biting down on it to see her whine and writhe. He does the same to the other, lifts one of her legs over his shoulder and fucks her hard.

“Daddy, daddy…” Misora coos appreciatively as her entire body is jostled by the force Banjou is driving into her. “Please… please…”

Banjou strains at keeping a level pace. “What do you want princess?” He asks. “Wanna come?”

Misora nods quickly and then leans back, exposing her neck to him as her eyes roll back in pleasure. “Choke me.” She manages breathlessly, so quietly at first that Banjou thinks his ears are playing tricks on him. “Choke me, daddy.”

A hand closes around Misora’s neck, putting a fair amount of pressure on the sides of her neck as Misora’s whines and moans turn into hoarse gasps. Her vision speckles as she comes hard, the walls of her pussy clenching hard on Banjou’s cock, and then all his inhibitions fly out the window as he fucks her so hard that she knows she’s going to be walking funny for at least two days after this, and he is still choking her and he feels so good inside of her. 

“I’m gonna come inside of you.” He growls and Misora tries to gasp out her enthusiastic agreement. “I’m gonna make you mine, baby girl. You’re daddy’s. Nobody else’s. What do you say?”

Banjou releases Misora’s throat and she mewls, canting her hips into the violent thrust of Banjou’s. “Come inside of me daddy, make me yours.” She says, and Banjou groans, pressing his head against his chest as he comes.

Resting his head on her chest, Banjou slumps against her to catch his breath, and then hi heaves himself up to pull out of her, watching as rivulets of pearly white slip from between her legs and pool on the bedsheets. He almost feels sad when she pulls herself up into a sitting position so her can untie her arms.

After the rough fucking is over, Banjou treats Misora like the princess she knows she is. 

He rubs her arms until the feeling returns to them and kisses the bruising decorating them, he carries her to the bathroom and they bathe together and then he rubs cooling lotion over her ass and helps her into one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers. He grabs her a can of ice coffee and they ease into bed together, his arm around her as his hand strokes her hair gently.

“My arms hurt.” Misora complains, and Banjou moves his hand from her head to rub her arm.

“I’m sorry.” Banjou says. “Was I too rough?” 

Misora flushes as she looks away. “I liked it.” She says faintly. “Just… next time don’t use the belt.”

Banjou frowns. “What do I use then?” 

“A tie.” Misora suggests. “Or a rope.” 

“Do I look like the kind of guy to own a tie?” Banjou asks and Misora rolls her eyes as she pokes the side of his head and pushes it away. He leans back and plants a kiss against his forehead. “I care about you, ‘Sora. A lot. More than I can probably say." 

Misora’s face softens as she turns to him, cupping his face in her hands as she leans up to kiss him softly. “I know.” She says. “You don’t have to say it for me to hear it.”

In that moment, Banjou truly believes that everything will be okay, and that maybe Misora means a lot more to him than he expected.

And, to his surprise, he finds that he doesn’t mind. Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [ cherry-kirsch ](cherry-kirsch.tumblr.com) || twitter: [ cherriwrites ](https://twitter.com/cherriwrites)


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